Pyra stirred and awoke at the sound of something (or someone) landing on he roof, opening his eyes just in time to catch something slamming into the ceiling and sending shards of it down. He nodded at Neale, groaning a bit as he forced himself to sit up. His arm felt... better, to say the least. Still painful, but more of a dull ache rather than the before sharp pain.

Nonetheless, best to not use that arm for the time. He rose to his feet off the bed, looking around at the circumstances. Neale was busy with him, the captain was on the ground, several seemed to be... gone? Let’s assume they’re off doing something and not... dead. 

After a moment, his eyes fell on the various shrapnel on the floor. Let’s tidy this up a bit, then focus on whatever vagrant was doing this. With a dismissive wave of his good arm, he began to encase the shrapnel in his energy and slowly collect it into a ball of sorts. Perhaps that could be useful if an attacker presented himself. Were those crossbow bolts from above? Well, if the Myti hadn’t learned their lesson before... he grimaced, letting the ball collapse into a simple pile and keeping a close eye on the ceiling. If another force hit the ceiling like before, he’d be ready.